


the family we built in the shadows

by Acacius



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slice of Life, but i can't help the slight guillermo/nandor bc oops i ship it, expect mostly comedy w/ a hint of seriousness bc i mean they are vampires, found family trope, most of the chapters will be gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-05 18:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18834250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acacius/pseuds/Acacius
Summary: Short domestic-centered pieces surrounding the lives of our favorite Staten Island vampires… and Guillermo, of course!





	1. A Bat in the Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1: In which Nandor tries his hand at cooking.

Guillermo immediately marked his place in the latest Anne Rice novel at the sound of a strangled and all too familiar hiss. Another hiss, accompanied by a series of loud thuds had the man springing up from his bed and bounding down the hall towards the source of the ruckus.

“Master?” the human questioned, padding into the kitchen, pulse elevated. It was past dawn already; why would any of the vampiric residents (aside from Colin) be up and about?

“Guillermo! I’m glad to see you. I need your assistance,” Nandor said, lips pulled tight in an expression somewhere between a smile and a grimace, a clove of garlic stretched out in his right hand. He had all of his long hair pulled into a messy bun, was wearing elbow-length yellow rubber gloves and donned an apron that said, somewhat predictably, _Kiss the_ cook, with the bow in the back obscuring a few of the letters that read _…but mind the fangs_. In short, he looked absolutely ridiculous and Guillermo had to bite his own cheek to keep from snort laughing at the vampire.

Even more perplexing than Nandor’s attire, Guillermo could clearly see that the man was shaking with the effort it took to hold the garlic so close to himself. It was in a vampire’s nature to avoid garlic for both its offending smell and its ability to induce an allergic reaction akin to pollen in humans. Granted, it was only really dangerous if a vampire bit into it, but that didn’t stop most of the species from avoiding the spice like the plague.

Guillermo blinked. And blinked again, this time rubbing at his eyes. Somehow, real life always surprised him more than his dreams ever could. “What are you doing?”

Nandor sighed with a tsk, wagging a finger with his free hand. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Though the camera crew always left after dawn, Guillermo couldn’t help but stare off towards where the main camera would normally be placed. “No. Not at all. I wouldn’t have asked if it were obvious.” 

“I’m cooking! Why else would I be in the kitchen?”

“Why are you cooking? You can’t eat human food.”

Nandor gave a hiss in response and frowned when Guillermo didn’t so much as flinch, arms still folded casually against his chest. “It’s for the… werewolves.”

Guillermo cocked his head to the side. “But you hate werewolves. You all,” Guillermo paused, gesturing in the general direction of the wing where Nadja and Laszlo slept, “hate werewolves.”

“Yes, yes, but you know what I hate more than werewolves?”

“…No? Wait, should I?” Guillermo responded, confused.

“No, no, it is not something we’ve talked about,” Nandor reassured, tossing the garlic clove towards Guillermo. 

The human caught it after it bounced against his sternum, clutching the spice in the palms of his hands with a questioning look.

Nandor smiled in response, this time showing all of his teeth. “I hate having my un-life routine interrupted. I am a creature of habit and I don’t want those filthy dogs out in the front yard again causing trouble. This,” he gestured to an ancient looking recipe book, “will be a peace offering.” 

Guillermo peered suspiciously at the book. “Master, what language is this even written in? Also, there’s like _actual_ cobwebs on it.”

“Ottoman Turkish.” Nandor wrinkled his nose. “Unfortunately, most of these dishes have garlic as a main ingredient. Probably because there were a lot of vampires in the Ottoman Empire. I was even turned by one on the battlefield.”

“Wait, you were turned in the middle of a battle?" 

Nandor waved a hand. “Not important. It’s a story for another time.” At Guillermo’s downcast expression, the vampire huffed. “If we finish before noon I _might_ relay the story to you.”

Guillermo smiled and Nandor looked away, hiding his own gentle grin in response.

 

* * *

 

In the end, the ancient recipe book had been a bust; upon further translating the text, Nandor realized that the book was actually a vampire hunter’s journal, and that the recipes within were rationed with as high as twelve times the amount of garlic needed for any individual dish. Guillermo ' _Googled a search,'_ as Nandor called it, and found a list of more traditional Turkish dishes that they fortunately had the ingredients for.

In return for his resourcefulness, Nandor gave an abbreviated and highly sensationalized overview of his turning as they cooked. One day, he reasoned, he would tell Guillermo the truth—the fear he felt at his turning, the pain that followed, how he nearly burned to death on the first day of his un-life if not for the cold stream he submerged himself in, a lone Cilician fir sapling, somehow spared amidst the battlefield, his only source of shelter from the white-hot sun once the chill in his bones became too much to bear. His rise as Nandor the Relentless was a rebirth—a change from cowardly peasant soldier to bloodthirsty warrior—and not something he looked back on with complete fondness, if he were being honest.

There was a reason, after all, as to why he was so hesitant to turn Guillermo despite his unflinching loyalty and dedication.

Just as Guillermo had finished making the _sakşuka_ , a common side dish composed of eggplant, potatoes, peppers, and a generous sprinkle of garlic powder in a tomato paste (that Nandor insisted he do himself in some strange attempt at tempering his innate fear response to garlic), the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Guillermo said, setting the final dish onto the flat brass tray that Nandor called a _sini_. Sure enough, a familiar pack of werewolves had gathered at the door. Some looked confused while others looked excited.

The leader of the pack stuck out his hand, flashing a grin. He was chewing gum obnoxiously. “Nice to see you again, dude." 

Wearily, Guillermo shook his hand and gestured for the group to enter the foyer. Once the door closed, successfully shutting out the last slivers of light, Nandor materialized behind Guillermo, giving a hiss. His glare was firmly fixed upon the leader of the werewolf pack.

Guillermo craned his neck up, shooting the vampire a confused look. “Master, _you_ invited them here,” he whispered. 

The other man's words seemed to snap Nandor out of his trance. “Yes, I did. My… sincerest apologies. I’m not used to having werewolves as guests.”

Guillermo led the group into the dining room—the cleanest room in the house given that only Guillermo and whatever familiar of the week that Laszlo and Nadja had conjured up ever actually dined there.

As the werewolves sat down to eat, Nandor ushered Guillermo out of the room and into the kitchen.

“For you,” the vampire said, holding out a plate, a rare show of warmth in his dark eyes. 

Guillermo stared at the slow-cooked mutton with obvious surprise. “Wait, I didn’t make this.” 

“I know. I did. Before you came to the kitchen, I had finished preparing one dish. I don’t quite remember what lamb tasted like, but I think it might have been one of my favorite meals. Or not. My memory’s a bit hazy when it comes to food. Now, eat, before it gets cold again. I stuck it in the wave of micros to heat it up again, but the numbers confused me.”

“Microwave,” Guillermo mumbled under his breath, lips pulled into a fond smile at the gesture. Sometimes being Nandor’s familiar wasn’t all that bad.

Guillermo took a bite and hid the almost immediate grimace with his hand, making a drawn-out hum of approval and flashing the vampire a thumbs-up once he discreetly nudged the plate onto the counter by the sink. Nandor had _loaded_ the meat with garlic—so much so that the man couldn’t even really taste the meat at all. There was no umami flavor to speak of. It was like biting directly into a clove.

Nandor beamed with pride. “Hah, perhaps I’ll try cooking more often!”

Please don’t…” Guillermo trailed, face turning pale. 

“What was that?”

“N-nothing!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway this show is so campy--i love it!! expect a lot of headcanons involving nandor especially since we know more abt laszlo and nadja's backstories compared to him. if you have any specific prompts or ideas feel free to leave them in the comments! this fandom is so tiny but i hope we will get more fic in the future; in the meantime, i'll write what i wanna see lol.


	2. Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2: In which an accident occurs and leads to a night of multiple misunderstandings. aka this is the obligatory 'oh no, guillermo's bleeding!!' chapter which means that the tone will be a tad more serious than the previous chap.

“Yes, yes, thank you, Gizmo,” Laszlo drawled, waving his free hand lazily as he motioned for the man to pick up the discarded goblets from his and Nadja’s midnight celebration.

Every full moon the pair would drink in excess to celebrate their anniversary of sorts, it having been a full moon when Nadja had seen Laszlo, took note of his clean, unblemished face and dark beard, and somehow instinctually knew with every fiber of her being that he was who she wanted to spend her eternal un-life with... and turned him. This month they had sprung for a more banal party for the two of them (likely thanks to the earlier round of drug blood shenanigans with the Baron—err, Barren, rest his ashes), having procured blood from a rather rowdy group of drunken youths, making both Laszlo and Nadja pleasantly buzzed in the process. 

“It’s Guillermo,” the man muttered under his breath, getting ready to collect the goblets when he felt a cold iron-tight grip against his wrist. He did his best not to immediately squirm in response, the vampire’s deceptively round nails pressing against the vulnerable pulse-point hidden there. The Staten Island trio all had their unique quirks, but all three shared an obvious disregard for personal space.

“What was that you said?” Laszlo asked, an unusually icy veneer overtaking his voice. If Laszlo under the influence of uppers, stimulants, what have you, was that of a rowdy yet charmingly sincere gentleman, than Laszlo after imbibing autonomic depressants such as alcohol brought out a more severe, serious side to the man.

He was _intense_ in the way he eyed the lone surviving familiar of the household, gaze dark with something Guillermo would have assumed to be bloodlust, if not for the fact that Laszlo’s eyes did not trail to his neck or wrists, but to Guillermo’s face itself. It felt akin to being studied underneath a microscope and the urge to squirm away only intensified for him as the seconds ticked away.

Nadja, who had been curled contentedly underneath Laszlo’s free arm, fingers lovingly threading through his dark curls, bared her teeth in a pout. “Laszlo, my love, you’re scaring poor Gizmo. I can hear his heartbeat from here. It’s thudding wildly like a little hare caught in a trap.”

“Am I now? Are you afraid, Guillermo?” Laszlo cocked his head, licking his lips. “Or perhaps your heart is beating fast for an entirely different reason...” he trailed, a knowing glance drifting between the two vampires as he spoke.

Nadja gave an enthusiastic nod in return, a sweet, fanged grin gracing her lips. “There’s no shame in finding us _alluring,_ dear. Plenty of humans have met their deaths due to their obvious infatuations with us. But that’s something you needn’t worry about.”

Guillermo blushed at the implication, tugging against Laszlo’s hold. “N-no, it’s not like that. I’m just worried about not having enough time to finish my Master’s chores. He gave me a lot to do tonight, so if you’ll excuse me.” He tugged again, this time reaching reflexively for the silver crucifix he kept hidden underneath his knitted sweater. He didn’t want to hurt either of them, but they were drunk and he’d seen the sort of devastation they wrought when they were sober; drunken, the pair was downright _dangerous_ , seduction notwithstanding.

“Hmm… a pity. You are quite cute in a lost-puppy-dog kind of way.” Laszlo mused, the coldness in his tone warming to that of a sincere, but polite sense of cordiality. He immediately released his hold on the man, causing Guillermo’s point of balance to shift against his will. Not wanting to fall into the two vampires’ laps, he flailed on reflex, a mistake that made his balance even worse.

Just before Nadja could use her supernatural speed to catch him, Guillermo braced himself against the wooden table where the empty goblets were, slicing his hand on one of the sharp edges as he fell to the floor, landing decidedly (and painfully) on his rear.

“Ouch…” he muttered, cradling his wounded hand close to his chest. Blood dripped worryingly onto the thick Persian rug underneath him, but before he could reach into his pocket for a handkerchief, he became aware of the sudden shift in the room. It was like someone had thrown a switch and bathed the drawing room in an electrical circuit. Every hair on Guillermo’s arms was raised as he stared at the two vampires on the chaise lounge.

Laszlo and Nadja stared back with repressed hunger—not really seeing him, Guillermo, Nandor’s familiar, but a potential meal—and he sucked in a sharp breath at the realization. Despite having two wine bottle’s worth of blood already, the animalistic looks they were giving were concerning and Guillermo almost wanted to call out for Nandor, but stubbornly bit his tongue at the last moment. 

The sting from the night at the vampire club still burned—and while Nandor had defended him in front of the Council, even going so far as to risk his own life for him, the initial pain from feeling as if his ten years of service meant nothing to Nandor had crushed him emotionally. Especially since it had meant so much to Guillermo even without the promise of being turned.

(Even now, when he knew that the promise was all a ruse anyhow.)

Just as he reached again for the crucifix around his neck, fingers clammy with the memory of the vampire he had accidentally killed in the tunnel, there was the sudden sound of hurried footsteps punctuated by the slam of the door as it fell off its hinges and collided against the wall, a long crack trailing up towards the ceiling in its wake. 

Nandor entered the study with a furious expression, fangs bared menacingly. He looked ready to attack at any moment, fingers flexing dangerously at his side. It was the first time Guillermo had witnessed even a hint of the _Nandor the Relentless_ of old. He could imagine him now, donned in a suit of armor, cutting down foes with his sword and, when that grew too boring, lifting up one of the soldiers and sinking his teeth into his neck in an arc of blood, arterial spray soaking into the war-ravaged ground.

It roused a flash of fear in him—the first genuine moment he ever felt anything akin to fear around Nandor. Nadja and Laszlo were (well-meaning) wild cards, but it was so genuinely easy to enjoy their company, and as such, Guillermo usually only felt afraid when he was alone with them outside of the estate when they were hungry. But Nandor? Guillermo took to Nandor immediately, having chosen him out of the three possible vampires to be his potential sire a decade ago. When Nandor had smiled at him that day, it had been genuine. He hadn’t seen Guillermo as a meal, but as a person. The ability to see humans as something other than food was something he assumed vampires, especially those as old as Nandor, would have lost over the centuries. 

In truth, Nandor, for all his asinine commands and rules, was a genuinely _good_ vampire—he rarely drank to excess, and of the three vampires, he was the only one who actively sought out evildoers to kill and drink from, remarking that the rush of stalking prey that had a chance of fighting back reminded him of his time as an Ottoman soldier. He was arrogant, narcissistic (unsurprising given that he was briefly the ruler of Al Quolanudar) and a textbook example of how wisdom doesn’t always correlate with age—but he was also surprisingly attentive to Guillermo and kind when he had no reason to be, no matter how much he tried to deny or hide it.

Sentimental pondering aside, Guillermo scrambled to his feet, wincing as he noted that blood was still dripping from the cut in his palm and onto the fancy rug that he was sure was as old as Nandor himself.

“I’m so sorry, Master. I’ll clean this up right away—“ Guillermo’s mouth snapped shut at the wave of Nandor’s heavily ringed hand, shuffling back instinctively as the vampire stalked forward.

“Nandor, it’s just a bit of blood on the carpet. No need to scare the lad,” Laszlo said in an attempt to placate the older vampire, rising to place a steady hand on Nandor’s shoulder.

At his touch, Nandor hissed, pushing Laszlo back down onto the sofa with enough strength that the furniture nearly broke in half. “Sit there and be quiet until I am ready to talk to you.” He turned to Nadja. “Speak. Why did you two try to drink from _my_ familiar?”

Nadja’s eyes widened at the accusation, the anger physically rippling from the man sobering her up rather quickly. “Nandor, we would never hurt Guillermo on purpose! It’s all a big misunderstanding.” 

“It’s as my dear said. I—and I apologize deeply for it—accidentally spooked him and he fell back, catching himself on the sharp end of the table.” Laszlo added on, ignoring Nandor’s previous command.

At this, the Turkish vampire pointed to the door. “Leave. You may return once you’ve both sobered up.” 

The vampires left without a fight, fingers intertwined as they walked away, completely in sync despite their drunkenness. Before closing the door, Nadja turned her head and mouthed a silent _I’m sorry_ to Guillermo as she crossed the threshold back into the foyer.

Alone with Nandor, the human gulped, glad for once of their height difference. He wasn’t sure he could meet Nandor’s eyes now, not when his mind was swirling with so many conflicting thoughts. In short, he was nervous, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the silence between them stretched on.

“Your heart is still beating so fast. Did you really think I’d hurt you?” Nandor finally asked, procuring a handkerchief from his pants pocket and offering it to the man. There was a hint of disappointment in his dark eyes, as if, despite his previous attempts at scaring Guillermo, he realized he didn't actually want his familiar to be fearful of him after all. 

(Despite his long un-life, Nandor still had trouble understanding his own emotions--which made his relationship with Guillermo more difficult than he would ever admit.) 

Guillermo shook his head, clumsily tying the material around the sluggishly bleeding wound. “N-no. Not really. I just thought you were mad at me. I’ve never seen you that angry before. It… surprised me.”

Nandor nodded in understanding, inching closer to his familiar. “Hold still.” 

At the feeling of the metal underside of Nandor's rings, just as cold as the vampire's hands, at his neck, Guillermo froze, heartbeat soaring yet again. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure they didn’t bite you.” he wrinkled his nose. “You’re my familiar, not some thrall. They aren’t allowed to have any sway over you.”

“They didn’t,” Guillermo insisted, but was promptly ignored. Nandor tilted his head with a surprising amount of gentleness, checking both sides of his neck carefully before inspecting the man’s arms, rolling his sleeves up. He breathed a sigh of relied at the unmarred skin.

He then paused to scent the air, lips pulling briefly into a frown. “You’re still bleeding heavily. Is that normal for a human?”

Guillermo nodded. “It is for me. I’m actually a Type 1 diabetic so my blood has a hard time coagulating sometimes—umm what are you doing?” his voice rose an octave in another bout of nervousness. 

Nandor rolled his eyes but continued to work on untying the makeshift tourniquet around the man’s wound, bringing Guillermo's hand closer to his lips. “Helping.”

“Helping yourself to a snack,” Guillermo scoffed, the retort out before his mind could catch up with his mouth. His default when uncomfortable was to either withdraw or bite back—sarcasm being his most trusted weapon. Apathy in itself had saved him as a youth, when he was teased mercilessly for his interests and beliefs—having gone from simply wanting to be an actor who played a vampire in a movie, to actually wanting to be a vampire when he first found out that the supernatural world did, in fact, exist. He had learned to turn the jokes and rude comments into fodder for his own sarcasm, because it was easier being the funny one than the poor kid with impossible dreams.

“Trust me, this will help.” 

Guillermo nodded with a resigned sigh, only flinching slightly when Nandor’s tongue slid against the cut. He shivered at the light scrape of fangs, wishing that he would finally change his mind and turn him. Briefly, he wondered what the vampire would do if he pressed his palm up, just enough to cut himself on Nandor’s left fang (which jutted out a tad farther than the right, Guillermo noticed), but ultimately decided to stay as still as stone. Nandor hadn’t been upset with him so hopefully, given the events of the night, he’d be given an early reprieve for bed. 

Still, his cheeks and the tips of his ears reddened slightly at the rather intimate position he found himself in—hand cradled in Nandor’s grasp, the nearby record player crooning out the romantic melody of Puccini’s _Vissi d’Arte_ , the way that the vampire had, at some point, tugged him down to sit on the sofa, a sort of pleasant fog creeping over his mind. He suddenly felt _safe_ , his usual everyday anxieties quieting as the seconds passed by, punctuated by the swipe of Nandor’s tongue against the cut.

Ah, so this was why most humans didn’t even attempt to fight back—Guillermo had been confused the few times that he’d seen Nandor feed, at the way that most people melted into his hold, expiring with a smile even if they had originally been wrought with fear at the sight of the man. It was an ability seemingly privy to Nandor alone, one that didn’t require any real manipulation or force of will after the initial bite. He didn’t need to rely on hypnotism as much as Laszlo or Nadja for his meals; a blessing, given how often his attempts at hypnotism failed.

So absorbed in his thoughts, Guillermo didn’t realize that Nandor had actually healed the wound, going so far as to stop the bleeding completely, until the man pulled away, tongue darting out against his lips to collect any stray drops of blood.

Guillermo tried his best not to stare. “Well that’s… convenient. Thanks.”

“That was the first time I’ve ever used my abilities to help heal a human,” Nandor explained proudly. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Guillermo. My special ability is that I produce more _venom_ than most vampires. It acts like an anesthetic. Makes hunting for prey much easier."

“So that’s why I felt so comfortable then?” Guillermo asked, expecting Nandor to nod in response.

Instead, the vampire’s face twisted in confusion. “But the venom is released from my fangs. Did I accidentally bite you? I’m sorry.”

Guillermo turned towards the camera crew, making direct eye contact with the camera in the center. He silently mouthed an _Oh fuck_ before facing Nandor. “Uhh…” he trailed, tugging at the hem of his sweater. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Are you sure?” Nandor persisted. “I mean your blood has always smelled _delicious_. But I’m a centuries-old vampire. I should have better control than this. Again, I am sorry Guillermo. Feel free to use a disrespectful tone with me… but only for the next hour or so.”

“Hey guys!” Colin Robinson interrupted, somehow materializing in the room. “Having a party in here or something?” He whistled at the empty blood goblets. “My, my, you've got quite the appetite, Nandor. I'm surprised. Better that then your little familiar though, I imagine."

Guillermo and Nandor groaned at the same time in the same exact manner and tone. At their unintentional synchrony, the two laughed loudly, Nandor’s arm rising up to rest on the back of the sofa, effectively caging Guillermo between himself and the armrest.

Colin smiled, the blue glow in his eyes dimming. “Aww, I was going to feed off you two, but I can read a room. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

“W-wait, what did you say?” Guillermo spluttered to no avail.

The energy vampire merely sauntered out with something akin to a kick in his step (or as close to one as an energy vampire could have).

“…Guillermo?” Nandor finally asked after another long, awkward silence. He still hadn’t moved his arm from behind his familiar.

“Yes, Master?”

“I think I’m going to retire to my coffin. Would you help me brush my hair first?”

Guillermo smiled at the question, rising to follow the vampire out of the room. Nandor still wanted him around—which was enough of an answer for Guillermo when it came to what Colin had implied. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, okay first off, thank u to all who commented on the first chapter; y'all are saints! i wasn't expecting much traction on this fic at all tbh given the size of the fandom but y'alls comments really motivated me to write a second chapter. if u wanna ramble abt the show or the characters w/ me, feel free to hmu on my tumblr @lux-mentis. 
> 
> as for the events in this chapter... believe it or not, but guillermo brushing nandor's hair is canon!! it's a scene in one of the promotional images for the show. so i'm not even making that up lmao. everything else tho is obviously headcanons, but hopefully enjoyable ones lol. what's fun abt this sort of show is that the writers give us a lot of room to make our own headcanons/fill in the gaps w/in canon! 
> 
> anyway, thanks again for all the support :D

**Author's Note:**

> anyway this show is so campy--i love it!! expect a lot of headcanons involving nandor especially since we know more abt laszlo and nadja's backstories compared to him. if you have any specific prompts or ideas feel free to leave them in the comments! this fandom is so tiny but i hope we will get more fic in the future; in the meantime, i'll write what i wanna see lol.


End file.
